A Different Kind of Ransom
by HaloFin17
Summary: Patroclus loses his battle against Hector and is taken prisoner. Now a hostage being held in Troy for ransom, he begins to doubt his worth in Achilles' eyes. Movie AU, two-shot. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Patroclus loses his battle against Hector and is taken prisoner. Now a hostage being held in Troy for ransom, he begins to doubt his worth in Achilles' eyes. Movie AU, two-shot. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **As I've said multiple times before, nothing is mine.

**Author's Note: **Just when I think I've completely run out of ideas for this fandom, another one strikes right before I'm about to fall asleep. And then I don't fall asleep. Isn't that how it usually works? Part 2 should be up sometime this coming weekend. Enjoy, everyone!

**A Different Kind of Ransom**

**Part 1**

This, of all things, was not supposed to happen. What a catastrophe it had all turned out to be! Death itself would practically have been a less frightening prospect at this point.

As it was, Patroclus found himself being dragged along by harsh hands toward the ever-imposing gates of Troy. It certainly was a far cry from the jubilant, victorious entry he might have dreamed of making alongside his countrymen, whom he was now leaving far behind on a ship-infested beachhead.

The cloud of dust rising up from the feet of marching soldiers on all sides was nearly enough to choke him, and Patroclus would have killed – again – for a simple drink of water; yet he was clearly in no position to complain. Some might even say he should be grateful for the fact that he still had breath in his lungs, but the young Greek entertained no optimism whatsoever about the future which lay immediately ahead of him.

Had he truly been so naïve as to think that he would be offered mercy on account of his youth, should he be defeated? And yes, mighty Hector had spared him after knocking the helmet from his head with a single jarring blow; but the prince was far too clever to simply let it end there. Devising quickly that a lad with apparent easy access to Achilles' armor must be worth a handsome sum, Hector had wasted no time in securing his new captive and separating him with unshakable purpose from the still-shocked swords of the Myrmidons. Those brave warriors would have a gleaming helmet to return to their lord but nothing more.

His escorts led him on a direct course toward the royal palace, their destination being a small, unassuming room on the structure's ground level. Prince Hector's arrival right on their heels made Patroclus' stomach twist in apprehension, for the Trojan's visage was grim, and he obviously meant to waste no time in interrogating his prize.

Patroclus tried unsuccessfully to swallow around his dry and swollen tongue, never once taking his eyes off the prince's intimidating form. Only then did he realize how utterly foolish he had been; he'd had no more chance of defeating Hector than he would have had of defeating Achilles himself. But what other option had there been in that moment when he'd found himself face-to-face with the renowned Trojan champion? To voluntarily reveal himself and end his ill-fated masquerade? The end result would likely have been the same, and he would only have added cowardice to his lengthening list of shortcomings.

Now soon he would be forced to speak with the man who had taken him in fair battle, forced to reveal truths that would either call for his own death or cost his cousin far more than he cared to imagine.

* * *

"Leave us," Prince Hector commanded firmly, and the guards departed, leaving him alone in the antechamber with his bound prisoner of war – the boy who earlier that very day had been posing as the Greeks' greatest warrior, Achilles. The charade might have even succeeded, too, had the youth not encountered a warrior as skilled as Hector himself.

"What is your name, boy?" he began without preamble.

Having expected no reply just yet, the prince was surprised to hear a softly spoken answer of "Patroclus." He would consider that a promising start.

"And what is Achilles to you, Patroclus, that you could come by his armor and fool his own loyal Myrmidons so handily?"

But when only stubborn silence answered him this time, Hector pushed harder. "I suggest you talk. I'm sure there are plenty of those among my men who would love to get their hands on the nameless Greek soldier who thought he could be Achilles. Believe me, they will not ask as kindly as I do."

He allowed a moment for those implications to register on his captive's young face. The boy was obviously trying to put up a bold front, and just as obviously failing in his attempt. His stormy blue eyes alone betrayed his fear, and it seemed the threat of torment was enough to loosen his recalcitrant tongue.

"Achilles is my commander."

That much was true, no doubt, but it was not enough.

"And what else besides that? I _will _have my answers from you, child, though I would prefer not to harm you further in the process of doing so."

Patroclus squeezed his eyes shut, looking pained, before speaking again. "He is my teacher."

"That much is obvious, judging from the way you fight. Now what else?"

The steely look in Prince Hector's eyes was one Patroclus had sometimes witnessed before in Achilles, and he knew better than to disrespect it. Suddenly he understood that those spoken threats were very close to becoming his reality, if he did not start cooperating fast.

"He is my guardian."

"And?"

The youth flinched visibly, his tall shoulders slumping in a final admission of defeat. "Achilles is my cousin. He has raised me and been like both a father and a brother to me."

The hard lines of Hector's face softened considerably as he finally had the full truth from his captive. The child certainly did look enough like Achilles, Hector had to admit. There was no doubting the boy's story, even as there was no doubting why he had been so loath to reveal it. The cousin and ward of Achilles would make a finer bargaining chip than anything he might have asked for on his own. But as it often does, the truth also revealed more questions that needed asking.

"Why would Achilles bring you here, then, if he is supposedly your protector? And more importantly, why would he allow you of all people to fight in his stead?"

"He didn't allow me," Patroclus almost snapped before reining in his temper. The prince's raised eyebrows told him to continue. "No one knew it was me out there this morning and not Achilles. You must have seen how surprised his own men were."

"I did, yes. I also noticed that the Myrmidons haven't been fighting at all since the day you Greeks first landed and took the beach. Does that have anything to do with what might have possibly driven you to such a desperate plan?"

There seemed little harm now in confessing it, so Patroclus nodded, drawing in a deep breath as he did so. "Agamemnon has been Achilles' enemy more than you these past few days, and Achilles withdrew his troops entirely because of it. I do love my cousin, but sometimes his anger consumes him to the point where he can think of nothing but his own wounded pride."

"I imagine he and Agamemnon are both alike in that regard," Hector conjectured with grim amusement. It would certainly coincide with what he had seen of both men thus far.

"But the soldiers all look to Achilles for inspiration, and many of them hold him in higher esteem than their own kings," the young Greek explained further, his tale coming out in a veritable rush now. "If they only know that he is out there with them, battling alongside them, their spirits are lifted, and their own fighting improves."

Patroclus finally raised his head and looked his captor squarely in the eye. "That's why I did it. Not for the glory of it all, as Achilles does; I only wanted to help my comrades and my countrymen push _you _away from our ships, since my cousin wouldn't do it himself."

"And indeed, it was a noble attempt, although one doomed to end poorly even from the start." The prince observed his captive with new eyes. "You are a skilled fighter for one so young, having learned from Achilles. How old are you, Patroclus?"

The young Greek took another deep breath to steady himself and answered, "Seventeen."

"Gods!" Hector's exclamation was accompanied by his hands instinctively tightening into fists at his sides. "And to think how close I came to killing you just a few hours ago."

"But isn't that what you plan to do now?"

The question had been put forth in hushed tones; and when Hector looked, genuine fear shone bright and unmistakable in the boy's eyes, making him appear even younger than before. So very young…

They held gazes for a moment longer before Hector sighed gravely. "It would not be my first choice, child, but I can make no promises. This is a war, and innocents your age and younger have already lost their lives on account of it." His own cousin Briseis had not been much older than this youth, after all, and now her grieving family could only assume that she had been a casualty of the battle on the beach.

"Even the innocent can still cause trouble," Patroclus muttered, barely audible.

Yet the prince heard him and snapped, "You did far more than 'cause trouble' today, boy, and you alone are now responsible for the deaths of many. Don't you dare think of yourself as innocent."

"I wasn't thinking of myself!"

"Then of whom?" Hector was intrigued now, an inexplicable fascination which only intensified when the boy fidgeted at the question.

"No one important," he divulged after that hard brown gaze crumbled his resolve. "It's just that this whole argument between Achilles and Agamemnon has been over some little priestess…"

"What?"

It was no startling outburst that made Patroclus halt in mid-sentence, but rather the dangerous gleam which had returned to Hector's eye.

"What did you say?" the Trojan pressed, his voice low and decidedly more insistent than it had been before. "What about a priestess?"

Patroclus blinked, suddenly unsure of himself once more; but his reprieve was short, as Hector's patience obviously was as well, for the prince closed the gap between them in two long strides and grabbed a rough handful of the boy's hair, forcing the younger soldier to meet his gaze.

"Speak."

And Patroclus did. "I – I don't even know her name. She was taken from Apollo's temple after the first battle. The Myrmidons found her, but then Agamemnon took her. That's why Achilles stopped fighting."

Hector tightened his grip, making the boy grimace. "And where is she now?"

"She's back with Achilles – or at least she was last night."

After another tense pause stretched too long, Hector finally released his prisoner and stepped back, recalling the guards. "Take the boy down to the prison," he instructed them, "but I want you to treat him well. Feed him and care for any wounds he may have."

"Yes, my prince," one of the men replied before they left with their charge.

When they had gone, Prince Hector sighed once again and sank wearily down into chair. He had a delicate plan to organize now and precious little time in which to do it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **Patroclus loses his battle against Hector and is taken prisoner. Now a hostage being held in Troy for ransom, he begins to doubt his worth in Achilles' eyes. Movie AU, two-shot. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **As I've said multiple times before, nothing is mine.

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much to everyone for the support this little story has received! You have all brightened my day in your turn, and the encouragement is very much appreciated. So here's the conclusion now, and I do hope you all enjoy. Thanks for reading!

**A Different Kind of Ransom**

**Part 2**

Apart from the throbbing headache that was sure to linger for some time, Patroclus was relatively unharmed. Per their prince's orders, the Trojan guards had been as gentle as could be expected while searching their captive for injury. They had still taken Achilles' armor, of course, and surely that was to become the crowning jewel of Hector's personal collection. He had won it in fair battle, after all, just as Patroclus had lost it. That thought alone was enough to frighten the young Achaean, for the price of the wondrous armor was likely worth more than his own life.

And whatever might Hector ask of Achilles as a ransom in exchange for his cousin's life? It was sure to be an extravagant price, if the prince bothered asking for anything. But surely that must be his intention! Why else would he concern himself with Patroclus' health and safety, at least for the time being?

They had given him water, which he drank without even a thought of whether it might be poisoned or drugged; and they had also left behind a simple plate of bread and meat, which he had yet to touch. He stared at the food, knowing full well that he should take advantage of such small kindnesses while they were still being offered; yet somehow he also knew that the aching emptiness in his stomach was nothing that could be so easily cured by a meal. For all too soon Achilles would be called upon to offer up a prince's ransom in exchange for the only blood relation he had left outside of his goddess mother.

That remained a daunting prospect. No one had ever disobeyed Achilles to the extent that Patroclus had just done; and if it had been anyone else, Achilles might have paid the required ransom simply so he could have the pleasure of killing the impertinent man himself. The youth shuddered. Truth be told, he had just as much reason to fear his cousin now as he did his captors.

But just then, the door to his cell grated open, and Patroclus defensively hugged his knees up against his still-bare chest. The Crown Prince of Troy entered.

* * *

Hector marched into the tiny prison cell with determination in every step. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting and came at once to rest on the hostage who sat huddled dejectedly in one corner. The child's youthfulness seemed to make itself more and more apparent every time Hector saw him – as did his fear.

Another brief glance around the room revealed that the boy had not yet eaten any of the food which had been provided for him. From what the prince had heard, their young prisoner had been nothing but cooperative since his initial interrogation – perhaps even _too _cooperative, considering this was the same boy who had stolen Achilles' armor and rebelliously led his Myrmidons into battle.

"Here," the Trojan spoke into the heavy quiet, holding out a simple tunic which he'd brought for their unwilling guest.

Patroclus reached for the garment with minimal hesitation and immediately pulled it over his head, no doubt eager to be less exposed before his captor's searching eyes.

"The warden here tells me you have sustained no serious injuries. Is that true?"

"Yes," Patroclus answered with a single nod. "I am well enough."

"Then your errand must have found some favor with the gods after all. Perhaps Athena blessed you with her protection out of loyalty to Achilles."

But now that pleasantries were concluded, and no response came to his previous statement, Hector wasted no additional time before explaining, "The priestess you spoke of is my own cousin. I have sent messengers to Achilles stating that I will require her safe return in exchange for yours."

The youth blinked up at him in obvious surprise. "Is that all? You…could have asked him for anything."

"Right now, she is all I want from him. I have only given him until sunset to respond, however; I do not want my cousin in his hands again for one more night. But I doubt you have cause to worry. I'm sure you are worth just as much to Achilles as she is worth to me – if not even more."

Patroclus only hung his head, wishing desperately that he could say as much with equal confidence.

* * *

Meager comfort though it was, at least Patroclus knew he would not be here long in this dreary cell. By nightfall he would either be reunited with Achilles or dead in Underworld like so many of his countrymen. Another ache panged in his chest at that thought. Had he done any good by his endeavors? Had he accomplished anything at all other than his own grim predicament?

He had just disobeyed his guardian in the worst way, and now Achilles would ultimately have to pay the price for it. Would he even believe that Patroclus was worth the sacrifice? He had been so infatuated with the priestess that he'd let all of Greece suffer when she had been taken from him before. Would he willingly hand her over now when only one Greek life was at stake? How much difference did it really make if that one life happened to belong to his rebellious, stubborn, ungrateful cousin?

So Patroclus' mind spun over and over again as time dragged inexorably onward. He had no way of knowing for certain what time it was, yet he suspected that by now sundown could not be more than an hour or two away. The young Greek was so absorbed in his own thoughts that every muscle in his body jumped in shock when the door to his cell creaked open again.

A pair of burly Trojan soldiers stood just outside the doorway, and one of them motioned for the prisoner to stand.

"Up," he ordered gruffly. "The Prince is ready for you."

Patroclus complied silently and allowed his hands to be bound once more before following his escorts out into open air. Much to his relief, he marked that although the sun was low in the sky, there must still be nearly another hour before it would set completely.

* * *

The actual exchange of prisoners a short while later was remarkably uneventful.

Hector had brought a small contingent of elite Apollonian guards, as well as Patroclus, to the designated meeting point halfway between Troy and the beaches. Achilles' only escort was Briseis, whom he surrendered over to Hector without a word. The prince immediately began to fuss over her; but Achilles, never one to wait on the whims of others, simply reached around behind his adversary and grabbed Patroclus by the elbow.

The Myrmidon warlord did not spare a single glance back behind him as he pulled his charge along with him toward his waiting chariot. Patroclus stepped up into the box but abruptly sat at the pressure of a strong hand on his shoulder. Achilles drove them off in the direction of the ships, his face stony and his every muscle tense; but his anxiety seemed to slowly fade as the distance separating them from the Trojans grew gradually greater.

Patroclus was aware of a similar draining sensation in his own body, culminating in the two hot tears which slid down his cheeks when he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the humiliation. Achilles did not speak to him. At long last, they arrived back at the Myrmidon encampment; and by the look of things, it was obvious that Achilles still fully intended for his troops to return home to Phthia – most likely the following morning. That would prove an unexpected bonus for Hector in the whole ordeal.

The eyes of many curious soldiers blatantly followed their approach. Some might have marked their coming with actual concern for the hostage's fate, but no doubt most were only eager to see what grim fate would befall the youth who had betrayed Achilles and deceived them all. Only when they were in Achilles' tent and safely out of sight did the warrior finally cut the ties which bound his cousin's wrists.

"Wash," the elder ordered sternly with a gesture toward his own basin.

Patroclus stripped off his tunic and complied, happy to finally cleanse away the day's filth but still keenly aware of Achilles' regard all the while. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the helmet he had worn early that morning, now lying discarded in the sand off to one side. Where would Achilles possibly acquire more armor worthy to accompany it?

Having not eaten since yesterday, Patroclus was hungry to the point where it had become genuinely painful; yet he was not about to ask for food like a dog begging at its master's table. If Achilles let him go to bed hungry, it should be the least of his worries. And Achilles himself, though he did not mention it, seemed to agree, since he did not offer sustenance of any kind.

When Patroclus had finished bathing, he glanced uneasily at his guardian. "Should I go to Eudorus now?" he asked, referring to prior roommate.

Achilles' response was immediate. "No. You will stay with me tonight."

The youth paused only briefly in surprise before nodding his compliance. If anything, he had assumed Achilles would want him away and safely out of sight for a while. Nevertheless, he lay down atop the furs without a word and waited for his cousin to join him, which he did momentarily.

Patroclus used to sleep with Achilles quite frequently when he was younger, but it had been a couple of years now since the last time. In this particular instance, it was bound to be as much a reassurance for Achilles as a punishment for Patroclus. If the boy so much as rolled over in his sleep, much less tried to sneak out again, Achilles would know of it.

The familiar arm around his waist felt more like a manacle this time than an embrace, but Patroclus forced himself to believe that he was still safer here risking the heat of Achilles' anger than back in the dank cold of a Trojan dungeon.

"I'm sorry." His words sounded hollow, despite the truth in them. "I know you would rather be holding her right now than me."

"If that were true, then I would be." Achilles paused, contemplating. "Did you think that I would choose her over you? That she was more valuable to me than you are?"

Patroclus hesitated for a couple of heartbeats before admitting, "I did wonder."

Achilles shifted closer then so that his mouth was right next to his cousin's ear, and his breath ghosted across the boy's neck when he spoke.

"And if that was also one of the reasons why you nearly threw your life away this morning, there was no need for it. I may have been short with you of late, Patroclus, but you should never have doubted my affections."

The younger man had no response for that, yet the words had fallen on fertile ground. Had that been an unspoken motive behind his façade – to recapture Achilles' attentions which had recently been wasted on the sniffling priestess?

"Will you ever forgive me?" he asked eventually.

"I already have, such is my gratitude that I am not burning your body and sending your spirit off to Hades right now." The golden warrior eased himself back to a more relaxed position reclining beside his kinsman. "However, I cannot allow such a misdeed to go unpunished, and so you will not be seeing a field of battle again until you are at least twenty-one. At least."

The emphasis was not lost on Patroclus, who could scarcely argue with that decision. It still hurt, though, to realize that the frustration and disappointment he'd felt over the past few days was about to extend for nearly another four years. He would simply have to bear it more nobly than before, understanding full well that he'd brought this on himself.

But in the immediate present, it was time to sleep. After all, this had easily been the longest day of his short life.


End file.
